


death keeps us holding our breath

by impeccably_stressed



Category: Fallen Hero Series (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Angst, Herald's POV, I thought Evil!Nate was bad but wow no I was fucking wrong, M/M, So much angst, Wow, first of all..., it's bad guys, ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 03:50:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16360199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impeccably_stressed/pseuds/impeccably_stressed
Summary: @impeccably-stressed You can make me sad but you can’t hurt me. i love him and i still killed him with my own two hands, by my own will. You can’t do more damage than this.





	death keeps us holding our breath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smuteczekbiczo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smuteczekbiczo/gifts).



> Kids, the lesson here is... ~~I have maladaptive coping mechanisms~~ _never say I can't write something that will hurt you worse than how you've already hurt yourself. I will take it as a challenge._

He was too late.

_Why am I always too late?_

Charge lies crumpled on the floor, legs shattered to pieces, holding his left arm close to his chest. Even from this distance Herald can see the sharp angle halfway up his forearm, broken, something he was uncomfortably familiar with.

He landed running, his heartbeat drowning the sound of creaking steel, the way the rubble would crack under his feet. By the time he skids to a stop in front of Charge, Herald is sure he’s dead. He collapses to his knees and his shaking hands reach out to touch Charge’s shoulder.

Ortega gasps awake, struggling to breathe, and Herald leans closer, saying soothing nonsense he can’t even hear over the sound of blood roaring in his ears.

“…shouldn’t…be here…” he gasps out, and Herald’s tears finally flood from his eyes.

“Of course I should be here!” He can barely hear himself hissing through clenched teeth. “I can help!”

He wipes furiously at the tears blurring his vision, and scoops his hand beneath Ortega’s shoulders and thighs, but Ortega squirms in his hold.

“N-No…” he groans, roughly pushing Herald away. “…you have…Dan…get…” He inhales sharply. “…get out…”

Herald shakes his head, ignoring the orders, and wraps his arms around Ortega again. “I’m not leaving you. I’m taking you to safety,” he manages to get a good grip despite Ortega’s struggling, “and then I’m gonna find Jed, and—”

Ortega pushes against his chest roughly, falling to his side on his bad arm, hissing with pain.

“Don’t!” He screams hoarsely. “Don’t…” He pushes himself upright again with his good arm, then turns to look over his shoulder, squaring his eyes at Herald with a frightening amount of lucidity.

“Get. Out.” He hisses, his eyes squinting from pain or from anger, Herald’s not sure. “Get the fuck out of here. Jed…”

And just like that, Ortega loses all his fire, nearly collapses back onto his bad arm, but Herald hoists him back up only to let go with another of Ortega’s pushes.

“Please,” Herald begs quietly. He has to wipe his eyes again. “Why won’t you just let me help you?” He turns his head away and bites his lip to keep composure in his voice. “I’m supposed…I’m supposed to be a hero.” His voice spills before he can’t stop it, “Aren’t I?”

Ortega shakes his head. “I don’t know…I don’t know anything anymore.”

For a long moment, there’s no sound between them but the distant screaming of Los Diablos in its death throes.

“He’s not who I thought he was,” Ortega says more to the ground than to Herald. “Blind…” He swallows thickly. “Blind to the truth.” He grimaces. “Didn’t wanna believe—” He grunts, straightening himself to look Herald in the eye. “Get out…please,” he whispers. His head hangs. “Don’t pay for my mistake.”

“Ricardo—”

“Daniel.”

Herald’s entire body freezes.

That voice, distorted beyond reason…

Part of him wishes he could believe it was Ortega who called his name, maybe some side-effect of his broken mods affecting his vocal chords—

“Daniel,” it says again, and he has to wrench his head around to see him.

Chunks of rubble crush under his feet, fire glints off his power armor, his cape billows like every frightening shadow he’s ever seen in his life.

“Daniel!” He says a third time, distorting, manipulating, twisting everything, _everything._ “What are you even doing here?”

It takes him by surprise, the sudden anger boiling through his veins, carried by his already accelerated heartrate. It’s like every inch of him is on fire, screaming, shaking.

The momentum of his fury carries him like a brick, and the fake Sidestep bastard topples over, clearly not expecting the most satisfying punch in the world to land right in his stomach.

He blocks Herald’s next punch, but fails to completely counter the flight-assisted bum rush Herald does with his shoulder, throwing them both hundreds of yards away against a large, crumbling mass of rubble. He doesn’t expect the hands the manage to wrap around his armored throat.

“MONSTER!” He hears himself scream.

“I-di…ot,” his distorted voice garbles.

He should let go. He should fall back. He should grab Ortega and jet off to the nearest safe area.

He should he should he should—

But _fuck_ it feels too good. If he just holds out for a little bit longer, if he just ignores the sudden throbbing of his mind, he could end it all, right here.

Crush this imposter with his bare hands.

His wrists crack under the force of the imposter’s grip trying to pull them off, and Herald screams so hard he’s sure he’s damaged his vocal chords.

“Dan—”

The imposter’s voice is cut off when Herald headbutts him; leaves a crack and his blood on the stupid thing.

He’s thrown onto his back, has to maneuver using only his elbows for the screaming of his wrists.

“Idiot!” The imposter hisses.

But it’s no longer distorted, it’s no longer garbled, it’s—

“Jed?” His voice cracks as he scrambles onto his feet, hugging his arms to his chest.

And just like that, Jed rips off the broken helmet and throws it in the rubble. Grimacing, he rubs his throat with both hands, throwing him the same glare he always does when Herald does…well… _anything_.

“You—” Jed coughs, still rubbing his neck while he gets up to his feet, “— _fucking idiot!!_ ”

Herald stands, staring blankly at Jed, incapable of a single coherent thought.

Jed screams.

“If you had just fucking stayed put back at your apartment like I told you, none of this would have happened! Goddamnit, Daniel!! FUCK!”

“J-Jed,” he says, whispering to avoid the pain in his throat. He steps closer to his lover, close enough to catch his gaze, but is startled to see nothing but…

…hate.

He steps back, eyes watering. “Jed, please, what’s going on?” He asks softly, shaking his head and looking at the destroyed helmet. “Why are you dressed like…? Ortega, he’s—and…and I-I don’t know what’s going on, I—”

Jed heaves through his teeth, pulling at his hair with gloved fingers, before taking one large step to scream in Herald’s face.

“No! No you don’t fucking know! You don’t know fucking anything, do you? You just…fucking _float_ there looking pretty and perfect and knowing _nothing_ about _anything,_ and yet you ruin, _ruin_ _yeeeeears_ worth of planning because you don’t fucking listen and you don’t fucking understand!” He growls, _growls_ , and turns away pacing. “Why the _fuck_ did I ever— _fucking_ —goddamn think you and I could ever—??”

And then Jed punches him in the face.

Herald falls, grunting when he lands on an elbow, and rolls onto his side, his arms shaking from the jolt of pain shooting up his wrists.

“ _Fuck!_ ” He screams, agony, confusion, anger, _everything_ , vocal chords cracking and straining from the scream of his shout. “Jed, what the _fuck!?_ ”

But only the crunching of dirt and rubble answer him. He turns his head around to see Jed bending down, fiddling with what’s left of the helmet.

“Jed?”

“Eight years,” he whispers, and something in the helmet sparks. “Eight years of planning ruined because I thought your ass was too good to kill.”

Jed stands up, slips the helmet back on, then turns to him with the face of his nightmares. “It’s a shame,” he says, voice crackling, distorted worse than anything his subconscious could have ever come up, literally dripping with his own blood.

Jed—Sidestep—steps forward, and Herald’s mind screams to move away, but none of the nerves in his body listen to him. He can’t even blink, close his mouth, _breathe_. All he feels is a sudden weight pressing down on his mind.

“A damn shame.” Jed says again as Herald feels himself slip into the darkness. “I really _did_ love you.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked getting this hurt, please consider following me on my social media accounts!
> 
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> 
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> 
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